Valkyrie
by S.L
Summary: Sookie wakes up one morning to find a token on her bedside table... Eric/Sookie
1. Chapter 1

It was sitting on my bedside table, waiting for me to wake up. I might not have noticed it if I had been in a hurry to get to work or out of the house. But as it was, I had the day off and subsequently no place to be all day.

I reached out from my relaxed pose to pick it up. I ran my hands over its form, marveling at the exquisite smoothness. It was a little swan, carved from a pale silvery colored wood, and it was beautiful.

Normal girls might have been frightened at the sudden presence of an object in their bedroom. It certainly hadn't been there when I went to bed the night before, which meant that someone had been in my bedroom while I had slept. This fact should scare me, but I'm the first to admit that I'm more than a few brain cells short of normal.

Reluctantly I placed the little figure back where it had rested between my alarm clock and a glass of water. It might be a mystery, but it wasn't one I was going to solve before my morning cup of coffee.

My roommates had already been awake, though I knew Octavia had been and gone from her teacup in the sink. Amelia must still be somewhere about; she had the bacon frying up to a crisp over the burner. I grabbed a spatula and tended to it before it could burn.

"Oh, thanks," said Amelia as she bundled into the room again, her arms heaped high with dirty laundry. "I thought it was smelling a bit dark."

I dumped the bacon out on a stack of paper towels, and turned off the burner. I was very fire safety conscious, no sense in rebuilding twice. I toasted a few slices of bread, and poured myself a cup of coffee. By the time I settled down at the kitchen table, Amelia was back from the porch and fixing herself her own plate.

"Hey, those wards you have around the house…" I smeared a healthy amount of marmalade on my toast.

"What about them?" Amelia asked. There was an automatic defensive quality to her tone. As a rule we didn't really talk about magic much, or at least Amelia and I didn't. Amelia and Octavia talked about it all the time.

I rolled my eyes at her to show her I didn't have anything to criticize. "How do they work exactly? Like who do they let through?"

I waited while Amelia finished off a piece of bacon. "Well, they're protective wards, so they'll let it anyone as long as they don't have evil intentions to the inhabitants of the house."

"Anyone?" I asked, a little surprised.

She wouldn't meet my eyes, a sure sign that Amelia had been doing a little tweaking. "Well, that's the way its supposed to be, but I've made some…night alterations."

"Night alterations?" I repeated.

Amelia nodded. "Yeah, but don't tell Octavia, she doesn't think I'm up to spell manipulation yet, but I told her its just like with the location spells we were doing last week…"

"Amelia!" I smiled as I pulled her back on track to take the sting out of the rebuke. "The night alterations?"

I had to wait again while she fixed herself another cup of tea. "Well, don't get angry," she said. "But you have a knack for attracting unwanted nighttime attentions…"

Sighing, I nodded. There was certainly no arguing with that.

"So, at night, after we lock the doors the only people who can get into the house are people who are…" Amelia paused and shuffled her hands as if she were juggling something invisible. "Recognized," she finished.

I pursed my lips and took a sip of coffee, then immediately made a face. It was getting cold. "Okay, so who is recognized?"

I thought I had managed to make the question sound off hand, but Amelia wasn't as unobservant as she sometimes acted. "Why do you ask?" Her eyes were narrowed and her voice suspicious.

"No reason," I said, toying with the edge of my mug. I couldn't quite meet her eye. Amelia and I had had many discussions over the past few weeks about my love life, and if she knew someone was visiting me at night I wouldn't hear the end of it.

"Right," she said. She commandeered my coffee mug and took our dirty dishes to the sink.

"So who is recognized?" I asked again.

She looked at me over her shoulder, her eyes almost knowing. Now that she knew I wasn't going to focus on her spell tweaking she had the upper hand in the conversation. "Well, the people who live here obviously, and a couple others."

I huffed. Obviously she wanted to play games. "Maybe I should just ask Octavia to take a look and tell me what she thinks."

"Alright," she shut off the sink and turned to face me. "So, its…promise you won't get angry?"

I twisted my lips, but Amelia didn't seem to notice I didn't promise her anything.

"Well, it recognizes any vampires who have current invitations into the house," she said.

I ran down the list in my head. That would be Bill, Eric, Pam, Bubba, and, well okay, probably a few more that I had forgotten. Maybe I should insist on a sign in sheet, since I clearly couldn't keep track of the list myself.

"Who else?" I asked, since Amelia was still looking edgy and she knew having vampires in my home wouldn't upset me. Not much would keep them out anyways, and they'd proven more than once that I had needed unexpected nighttime assistance in the past.

"Um, Sam, for one," said Amelia. I sighed, but that one I could probably handle too. He still sometimes spent the night as Dean. I gestured for her to go on. "And Dawson," she blushed, so I let it slip. "Also…Jason."

"I told you I he has no business here anymore, Amelia," I snapped. I couldn't help but feel the rawness of the wound where I had torn out my brother. He hadn't been perfect, in fact he hadn't even been very good, but he had been mine; the only one I have. Now I had no one.

"I know," she countered. "But I thought… you know," she shrugged. "If something where to happen."

I don't like reading the thoughts of my roommates, and generally I do whatever I can to stay out of them, but I found myself flustered by the thought of Jason so Amelia's thoughts flooded in. She was thinking that Jason should have somewhere to go if he got into trouble. She was also thinking that I would probably forgive him before to long anyways so there was no sense in taking the time to pull him out of her wards. Not if she was going to have to go and put him back in again.

"Alright, fine," I agreed, none too happily. "Don't waste your time removing him then. Just make sure if he stops by when I'm not here that you send him packing."

"Of course," she agreed a bit too quickly, but I wasn't of the mind to follow up her sudden cooperation.

"Thanks for telling me about the wards, Amelia," I said more heartedly. "I really do appreciate you doing all this for me."

She waved aside my thanks with a careless gesture and a flick of her head. "Don't bother. What else are roomies for?"

"Other than protecting each other from being attacked in their sleep?" We shared a little grin at that. "What are you doing today anyway?"

"Laundry," said Amelia immediately. "And cleaning, and cooking. Then I thought I might go into town for a haircut or something."

I smiled. "So what time is Dawson coming over for dinner?"

Again, she blushed. Amelia and Dawson were still in the newness of their relationship where everything made her nervous. I was surprised since I had never seen Amelia deal with potential partners with anything but confidence. Even Pam had been treated to immediate coquettish smiles. But with Dawson, Amelia seemed to lean more towards awkwardness.

"Around six," she admitted. There was a hopeful sort of look on her face.

"I'll stay out of the house then," I said. I didn't know where I would go, but maybe Tara would like to go see a movie or something.

"Thanks," said Amelia gratefully. "I even managed to convince "Octavia to go ad visit her daughter for dinner. She won't be back until tomorrow morning."

I narrowed my eyes. "I hope you're not hinting I find somewhere other than my own bed in my own house to be tonight."

"No, of course I'm not!" Amelia said quickly. There was something in her eye though. Something very sly indeed that I'd learned to not trust. Deliberately I tried to listen into her train of thoughts, but found her running through her grocery list. Maybe I was wrong and she was just distracted.

"Well, good," I said. "I'll be quiet when I come in at least and go straight to my room."

Amelia on a mission is a sight to see. I allowed her to put me to work for the first part of the morning since the house she was so furiously cleaning was mine. I took care of the living room and the kitchen, then tried not to be offended when she went back over my work with a mop and a rag. I even offered to go to the store to pick up supplies, but she insisted that I didn't know how to pick out a properly cut steak. I tried not to wonder how rare she might be cooking that steak. It was getting close to the full moon after all.

I did however, put my foot down at being told to remove all the curtains and wash them for the third time that month. If a man like Dawson noticed a little something like coloring on the curtains then I had grossly misjudged him.

Instead I spent my afternoon sunbathing in the yard. It was still a little too cold to be out in my bikini, but the sun felt good on my skin. After a long cold winter of being kept in my house even a lukewarm spring day like today was appreciated by an avid sun junkie like me.

I soaked in the rays until my skin began to prickle with the wind chill and then happily switched to soaking in the warmth my hot water heater provided in my tub. Since I had nowhere in particular to be I took my time washing out my hair and shaving my legs. Amelia might want privacy for tonight, but if I ran a few minutes late out the door no one would mind. It was still my house, after all.

It was only five when I got out of the bathroom, so rather than dress immediately I settled back on my bed in my bathrobe. I'd managed to keep Amelia from doing a once over of my room, so everything was as I had left it that morning. Including my nighttime visitor.

I picked up the little swan again and held it in my palm. It was about the size of a plum, and it was sitting proudly as if on an invisible lake, its neck arched high above its body. Its eyes were closed, but its head was thrown back in just such a way. I had only held it for a few moments this morning, but now I took the time to admire the craftsmanship.

This was no trinket bought in town. This was something someone had poured their love and patience into. It was most certainly carved by hand; I could feel the lines where a slim knife had pierced feather patterns into the wood. But it had been a very skilled hand indeed. The slim neck of the swan had been sanded to velvety smoothness and the details in its long wings were almost unnoticeable. Each feather had been elegantly traced so that the wood was just barely indented. It was beautiful, and it most certainly had some type of meaning.

Carefully I set the little masterpiece down in its spot, and turned on my side to face it in my bed. My hands crept up to support my cheek as I considered. There were only three men who had (as of yet) dared to visit me in my own room in the middle of the night. Bill and Eric had both done so quite brazenly. Sam, too, had been known to show up, but more politely and cautiously. Of the three, he was the most likely to leave a token, but this swan was more than a side thought, and as far as I knew Sam didn't know how to carve his name in a tree let alone craft something so lovely.

Bill wasn't much of a gift giver, and though he wanted to be back in my good graces he knew enough to know I wouldn't appreciate him checking on me in the middle of the night. Though I did not deceive myself into think that he did do just that from time to time.

Eric, though the best candidate for leaving gifts, was not at all the type to give away something so personal. He liked the pomp and flash of the twenty first century more than a thousand year old man should. His gifts always reeked of name brand labels and expensive price tags.

"Then where did you come from?" I asked the little swan as if expecting an answer.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, resigning myself to getting dressed. I was hardly going to figure this out on my own, and the gift giver would likely reveal himself in time. Then I had a thought as a pulled on a blue dress covered in little daisies. Maybe my nighttime visitor had been a woman? Perhaps Claudine was the culprit? After all, she too had shown up in my bedroom from time to time, and she left me small gifts whenever she felt my mood needed a lift.

In that vein, perhaps it had been Niall who had left me the swan? Maybe it had some sort of fairy relevance that was beyond my human understanding?

The knock at my door interrupted my thoughts, though at that point I was glad to let them go. It was giving me a headache.

"You're not wearing that are you?" Amelia said as she poked her head in through the door. She hadn't waited for me to respond before entering, I noticed.

I frowned at her disapprovingly. "You're supposed to wait until I say come in."

"Fine," Amelia rolled her eyes. "May I come in?"

I nodded and turned back to my mirror.

"So, you're not wearing that are you?" she asked again.

I eyed myself in the glass defensively. I liked this dress, it wasn't new, but it was comfortable and nice looking. It would do well for a night out visiting a friend. "What's wrong with it?"

Amelia's reflection appeared behind me. "It's a bit too chilly outside for short sleeves don't you think?"

"I'll take a sweater," I said.

Rather than respond verbally Amelia nodded then disappeared back out the door. "Witches," I complained, as I picked up my brush.

I had fixed my hair back in a clip and applied a light amount of makeup before Amelia returned, with a garment draped over her arm. "Here," she said, as she laid it out on my bed. "Try this instead."

It was a pretty, in an understated sort of way. Like the dress I was wearing it was made of plain light cotton, but its sleeves and skirt were longer. It was also a deep red. "I don't know," I said, fingering the trim at the sleeves. "It's pretty, but it looks new."

Amelia shrugged, she was already shucking it from its hanger and passing it to me. "Red looks horrible with my coloring," she said. "I've never worn it anyway, so you may as well take it." Her tone was a little too casual for my taste so I crossed my arms over my chest rather than accept the dress.

"What's going on, Amelia?" I demanded.

She adapted wide-eyed innocence for a bout ten seconds before she broke down and sighed. "Alright, fine, I feel guilty."

"About what?" I asked.

"Just try it on for me and then I'll tell you, okay?" she bit her lip in such a pitiful way I sighed. Besides it really was a nice dress.

Amelia waited in the kitchen for me to slip into the dress. It really was nice looking, casual, but in an upscale kind of way. I even found a pair of white sandals to go with it, and my little straw purse completed the ensemble.

I felt good in the new clothes, but I was still annoyed with Amelia when I confronted her in the kitchen. "Spill it, Amelia," I said after waiting for her to pull a pie from the oven. We only had a few minutes before Dawson would arrive and I wouldn't put it past her to stall so she wouldn't have to talk to me until tomorrow.

"Quinn is also still allowed past the wards," she had the oven mitt between her hands and was worrying the fray on the corner. "I swear I forgot until you asked me about the wards this morning. But when he was popping in and out last summer I added him."

"So, you never removed him?" I asked. I didn't feel angry, as Amelia might have expected. I didn't even feel the raw hurt of loosing him anymore. Actually it felt strange to think of Quinn again. I hadn't seen him since the day he walked out of my house, and I hadn't heard a word from him or his family either. I did think about him sometimes though, but it wasn't until Amelia had spoken his name that I realized it had been a while.

"No." She sounded sheepish.

I smiled at her to show her I wasn't angry. "It's okay, Amelia. Just remember to remove him as soon as you can okay?"

"Sure," she nodded, and then she smiled broadly herself. "You look great in that dress by the way. Have you decided what you're going to do tonight yet?" That innocent tone was back in her voice.

Immediately I felt suspicious. "No, but…what do you know, Amelia?"

As it was I didn't need her to respond, since the next moment the back door swung open and Pam strode in as if she owned the place. She smiled slyly at Amelia, and actually kissed her cheek before turning to me.

"I heard you were on your own tonight, so we're having a girls night out." The phrase fell on Pam's tongue as if she were speaking a foreign language, and her facial expression hardly hinted at pillow fights and ice cream.

"Right," I glared at Amelia who had turned to busy herself at the stove. "I was actually going to stop by Tara's to see if she wanted to go see a movie."

"I can see a movie," said Pam. "I have seen many movies. I especially like the ones where people's heads get chopped off."

I winced. "I was thinking more like a romantic comedy or something. You know, like with Brad Pitt, or Clive Owen…"

"Or George Clooney," Amelia finished. We shared a dreamy sort of smile.

"Or John Wayne." We both looked at Pam.

"Er," Amelia supplied. "I think he's dead."

Pam blinked. "I like cowboys."

"Of course you do, honey," said Amelia, then she patted the back of Pam's hand and turned back to her cooking.

"So, we are going to the movies?" asked Pam.

I looked between her and Amelia, sure there was something in this that they were both involved in. But since I was unable to figure out what it was and since Amelia's thoughts were very firmly on the image of Dawson's backside (not something I needed to see), I shrugged.

"I guess we're going to the movies," I answered.

As it turned out Tara was not at home when we drove by her place so Pam and I found ourselves at the AMC on our own. Pam had insisted on driving and since she had borrowed Eric's red Corvette we drew attention as we pulled into the parking lot.

I was more than a little surprised to see that they were selling bottles of True Blood at the concession stand, though I suppose I shouldn't have been. Somehow, with all the commotion of the past few years I hadn't been to the movies in a while. So, to indulge myself I bought a large popcorn and was a liberal as I wished with the fake butter even though Pam looked absolutely disgusted with my choice.

"Well, we all can't drink our dinners, can we?" I commented, motioning towards her bottle of warm blood.

"No, but you may as well be drinking yours," she responded as she reached out to touch the shiny top of the melted butter.

I jerked my popcorn away. "Ew, keep your hands to yourself."

She just arched an eyebrow, looked at her soiled finger, and then reached out to clean it off on the sweater of the man in front of us. "I think I'll stick to blood," she said.

The movie was enjoyable and mindless. It would have been nice to see it with a girlfriend, someone more like Amelia or Tara. Someone I could have joked with, or who understood modern comedy. Pam spent most of the movie looking confused and asking me why everyone was laughing when the humans fell down.

"Because it's funny," I explained as we walked out of the theater. "Its slapstick, you know? You can't help but laugh when someone is clumsy and falls down and lands on something sharp, or is tripped and falls on top of a cake or something. It's just funny."

"I don't get it," said Pam again. She was unlocking the car, her hands working with great care. I wondered if Eric had told her to be careful with it, or if he often lent his precious Corvette out to her. "Humans fall down all the time and I don't laugh."

I shrugged. Sometimes vampires just didn't understand anything. "It's a movie, it's not meant to be taken seriously. You're just supposed to enjoy it."

"Ah," Pam started the engine. "I suppose its just one of those human things."

I had relaxed against the headrest of the car so I hadn't been paying attention to where we were headed until we were several miles down the road. In the wrong direction. "Pam, Bon Temps is that way," I said, pointing back the way we came.

She barely glanced at me. "I know," she said. "But I have to have Eric's car back by ten. He said he would remove one of my fingers if I was late."

That froze me. For a moment I wondered if Eric really would remove one of Pam's fingers.

"That was a joke," said Pam, shaking me out of my horrific thoughts. "I can be funny too."

"Vampire funny," I whispered, more than a little disturbed. I think I preferred vampire's preferences for puns. Sometimes they were dark, but they never got that graphic.

"Exactly," agreed Pam with a smile. "But he really will not be pleased if I am late."

I glanced at the digital clock in the dashboard. It was barely nine more than enough time to drive me back home and get Eric's car back to him. For some reason though I didn't say anything to Pam. Eric had barely spoken to me in months. At first I had been glad at the distance, since I had very little desire to engage in "the talk" he had promised me so long ago. Then when the only contact we had had dwindled down to infrequent phone calls I realized that I started to miss him. Stubbornly I had refused to make the first contact, but if Pam insisted on driving me too him, who was I to argue with that?

Some masochistic part of me even wished that my nighttime visitor had been Eric. I might not have wanted to belong to him, but I did miss him. Maybe as a friend, and then again maybe as something else…

Pam was looking at me sidelong with an almost knowing look in her eyes. "What?" I asked.

"Aren't you going to argue?" she questioned. "I had hoped you might fuss a bit, maybe even try to get out of the car?"

I eyed her. "Are you hoping I'll throw myself out of a moving car?"

She sighed unhappily. "No, but I did expect some kind of amusement."

Rather than take the comment personally I rolled my eyes. I had long since accepted the fact that though Pam did seem to like me in her own way, she would always see me as more of a pet than anything else.

"Would it make you happy if I demanded to be taken home?" I asked.

She smiled. "Yes, I think it would," she admitted. "But you know I won't."

"Which is why I didn't bother in the first place," I lied. "I knew you would do whatever you were going to anyways. Besides, I figure you'll get me home one way or another."

"Hmmm," she said rather than responding outright. "One way or another…yes, I suppose so."

I didn't like the way that sounded, but since I didn't feel like arguing and playing into Pam's game I just settled back into my seat and waited. Pretty soon we were going to pull up in front of Fangtasia and I would be facing Eric. And that was a meeting worth saving my energy for.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't even midnight yet, but already Fangtasia was overcrowded, the line waiting to get in was wrapped all the way around the building. Pam pulled up noisily, angling the boss' car right up front of the door, and striding into the place as if she were the owner. Well, I reasoned as I followed her a little more meekly, she was a partial owner.

There was some satisfaction in walking through the bar with Pam. I certainly didn't have to struggle for any space. The crowds simply opened up for my vampire companion, and anyone who didn't move quickly enough found themselves tossed on their backside. Just once I saw Pam stick her foot out deliberately and cause a particularly badly dressed fangbanger to fall flat on her face. She paused for just a moment to admire the way the leather rode up on the woman's thighs then smiled.

"You're right," she told me as we continued forward. "Falling is funny."

I sighed, and watched as the fangbangers friends helped her off the floor. "That's not falling, Pam…"

She shrugged and continued on her way and if she felt like tripping any more humans she didn't show it.

I might have tried not to notice the blond vampire in the center booth, just as I might have tried not to notice the sun on a summer's day. Both were impossible. Though, since I could not help but look his way it was only appropriate that he return the behavior.

And Eric was not trying to avoid my eye. He stared at me unabashedly, but what he thought I could only guess. He looked almost indifferent, neither happy nor sad to see me. But his look had a hungry shadow to it the closer I got. I did not need Pam to lead me the last few steps to him.

Pam dropped the keys and Eric's hand whipped out, caught them, and returned them to his pocket almost faster than I could see. He nodded to her, but did not remove his gaze from me.

"Did you have a good girl's night out?" he smiled. Whereas the phrase had sounded foreign on Pam's tongue, it sounded positively wicked on his.

"The best," Pam confirmed and I suddenly found her pressed close against my side, her chin resting on my shoulder. "Another time, Sookie, dear?"

I knew this was meant for Eric, somehow intended to tease him, but when you find fangs that close to your face you agree with whatever they're telling you to do. "Of course," I said. "Anytime you like, Pam."

She smiled at me, nodded at Eric then left.

"Sit."

He might have chosen a better way to start off a conversation, especially after so long an absence in my life. I immediately felt on guard. "Haven't you ever heard of manners?"

He almost smiled. "Please, sit?" he tried.

I sighed, knowing it was the best I could hope for, and reminded myself not to be picky. "So," I said as I sat. "Is there a reason for all of this?"

"All of what?" This time there was definitely a smile on his lips.

"Getting me all the way down to Fangtasia. You could have just called you know. I have a cell phone now."

Eric did not seem at all phased. "Would you have come?"

I opened my mouth to tell him I absolutely would have, and then shut it again. Hadn't I just been thinking that I wanted him to take the first step? After all, hadn't he told me to come to Fangtasia the past few times he had called? I colored as I remembered how those conversations had ended. I generally found a reason to hang up on him for presuming I was his to demand at will. But was it really too much to ask to have him come to me?

"Your conflicted," he stated and colored at that as well. It was this bonding. It was too damn confusing. I now remembered why I had avoided Eric in the first place, and why I hadn't wanted to respond to his invitations. If I started coming at his beck and call how was that different than him calling me to heel?

"I'm not a toy, Eric," I snapped.

The look he focused on me was quite serious. "No," he agreed. "You're not."

"So, what is this about?" I asked again.

This time he shook his head. "That talk isn't for here. Come with me," then without waiting to see if I would follow he stood and strode towards the exit.

I was of half a mind to just stay where I was, and I must have broadcasted as much, because he hardly made it more than a few steps away before he turned around and offered me his hand.

I was so surprised at the gesture that I grabbed it instantly and allowed him to pull me through the crowds and back outside. We took the employee exit out, so when Eric paused to stare at the spot where he usually parked his car in annoyance I took my turn to pull him around front to show him where Pam had left his Corvette.

"Are you taking me home?" I asked after we were both seated in the car and pulling away from the bar.

He shot me a heated smile. "Oh no," he said. "Tonight, I'm not giving you up so easily."

Something in the way he said it made me shiver, though I wasn't sure why.

"So, where are we going?" I asked.

Eric did not answer me so I did not ask again. Instead I tried another route. "Why aren't we going to my house?"

He sighed. "A part of me would have liked to have had this talk at your house, it would certainly be appropriate." I did not ask why.

"We're having that talk then," I said.

Turning, Eric managed to look at me, ignoring the road in the way that unnerved me so much. "Yes, Sookie," he answered. "We are having our very long overdue talk."

I wondered then if the hesitation I felt was my own. Ever since we had bonded the lines between my emotions and his had been finely drawn. It was one reason, I think, that we were both hesitant to actually discuss this. Neither one of us were too keen on giving too much of ourselves away, and if it came down to a match between my privacy and his there was no doubt who would win.

He settled back into his unusually pensive mood, and I watched as the more populated streets of Shreveport gave way to the back roads. We were barely out of town when he abruptly turned off his headlights, throwing us into pitch darkness as we drove.

"Eric, are you crazy!" I panicked, throwing myself against his side, desperate for some light.

"Shh," he said, and with his words I felt calmness flood through my body. I fought against it, but eventually it stilled my muscles, and I found the hand that he had reached out in the dark to take my own. "Trust me, Sookie."

We were still flying down the road at an Eric appropriate speed, meaning, well above the legal speed limit. In order to keep my sanity I closed my eyes, dug my fingernails into his palm and reminded myself over and over that vampires could see in the dark.

I was still hyperventilating, so when he parked and shut off the engine it took me a few extra minutes to calm down. When I came back into myself again I realized that my fingers were slick with blood where I had gripped too tightly against his hand. Worried for him, I opened my eyes again to find that we were parked in a white-walled garage, and there was a dim light embedded in the ceiling.

Eric hadn't moved, but when he saw my eyes open he held my gaze as he lifted my hand up to his mouth and very slowly sucked his own blood from each of my fingers. I shuddered as he swirled his tongue around my pinky.

Then without a word he was out of the car and opening my door for me.

"Thanks," I said, but somehow that sounded inadequate. "I appreciate it," I added, though that too didn't sound right.

"I didn't want to scare you," he said. "But the location of my house is secret."

That hurt, so when he reached for my hand to help me out of the car I pushed it away. "You don't trust me?"

He didn't answer, and when he led me through the door and into the main house I held my arms wrapped around my own body so I wouldn't be tempted to touch him again.

We came in through the kitchen, and since this was a vampire's kitchen it was a very plain one. However, the first thing I noticed wasn't the pale yellow walls or the marbled granite countertops, but the delicious smell. "What is that?" I found myself asking. My stomach responded with a small rumble, reminding me that a bag of popcorn was not dinner.

Eric moved out of my view so that I could see the dinning room table through the kitchen. I found my mood almost melting at the sight of the single plate and glass set in front of a single candle. My arms fell down to my sides, and I felt the small smile grow on my lips, but I couldn't entirely let go of my reservations.

Without touching me Eric led the way into the dinning room, and pulled out my chair. I had no problem sitting down, and waiting while Eric returned to the kitchen to pull a plate from the oven and set it down before me.

"I'd like you to be well and ready to have this talk," he explained as he sat across from me. "No excuses."

"Thank you," I said, my manners not allowing me to ignore the gesture. I picked up my fork, and looked down at my meal. It wasn't anything special, just some mashed potatoes, green beans and a few slices of chicken, but it certainly smelled wonderful enough. Besides, it wasn't the food that I felt warmed by, but the act.

I took a bite of potatoes, before I began to feel awkward. Eric was watching me very avidly with a confused line between his brows. "You're not going to have anything?" I asked, wanting to take some of the pressure off myself.

"Not tonight," he replied, and then motioned for me to continue.

There was no reason not to eat, so I did my best to ignore my audience as I filled myself up. When I paused to sip at my glass I was surprised to find a very sweet tasting wine that complimented my food nicely.

"I do trust you," Eric said after I had been eating for a few minutes. "But that is part of the problem."

"Why is that I problem?" I asked defensively.

The effect of his full attention froze my wineglass halfway to my lips.

"It is a problem, Sookie," he responded. "Because I do not trust lightly."

I set my glass back town and toyed with the stem so I would not have to look Eric in the eye. "So, trusting me is important."

"Are you finished?" he asked.

Somewhat reluctantly I looked down at my plate. I had eaten most of it, but I could probably stand a few more bites. However, now that he had started this conversation I was ready to see it through and be done with it. I may only be a telepath, but I didn't need to be psychic as well to be able to tell that after tonight my relationship with Eric would be forever changed. Either we would come out the other side closer or completely estranged. And as loath as I was to admit to wanting any kind of bond with Eric, I didn't even want to entertain the thought of him not being in my life at all.

"I'm finished," I decided.

We left the dishes where they sat and walked into the next room. Like the rest of the house that I had seen, the living room was understated, but masculine. When Eric sprawled against the couch in his jeans and t-shirt he looked very at home. I sat beside him a little more stiffly.

"We are bonded," he began. I shifted to face him a little more comfortably. From his tone I could tell that this was no mere statement. "This is a permanent status that neither of us should have entered into so lightly." I opened my mouth to point out the circumstances of our bonding but he held up a hand to silence me. "I know that we were not given much of a choice, but the results remain the same. You are now my weakness."

I hugged myself at that description. Eric didn't like weaknesses. "So, what are you saying? You're going to get rid of me?"

Though some part of me knew Eric would never hurt me, I was still relieved to see that his reaction consisted of him rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"You do not seem to understand, Sookie," he said patiently. "Even if I did decide to kill you to remove this bond from my life, I would succeed only in hurting myself. You as well would find yourself damaged if any ill came to me."

"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously.

"You've noticed of course, that not all of your emotions lately are your own?" explained Eric. There was no need for me to nod. "That connection goes two ways. I had to explain to Pam last Tuesday why I suddenly threw a glass at her for no reason."

I blushed and looked at my interlocked hands. "Crystal came into the bar with her new boyfriend," I explained. "I was angry."

"I noticed," he responded dryly. "You see then how this is something that we both need to address? I can't have my emotions be anything less than absolutely controlled."

A disagreeing noise made it past my lips before I could help it. "Absolutely controlled?" I asked. "You aren't the only one with unexpected mood changes, buddy."

"Anger is not your strongest emotion," Eric reminded me and I felt a flare of borrowed passion that made me blush. So Eric was able to feel my sexual frustration as well, just great.

"Then what are we supposed to do about this?" I asked, changing the topic. "If we can't get rid of it? And we can't control it?"

He smiled, and shifted closer. "I did not say that it could not be controlled, my lover."

I shivered at the endearment whispered so huskily. "So, how do we control this?"

"By shifting the purpose to our advantage," he answered. His hand reached out to grasp my own. "By opening ourselves up to this bond and strengthening it. By embracing the connection so that it may profit rather than hinder us."

I snorted at his word choice, drawing his attention. "You would be interested in profit," I explained. He grinned at my statement and drew his hand up my arm.

"You feel calm right now, don't you, Sookie?" he asked. His voice was warm, even though his touch was not, but even that sent sparks against my skin.

"Yes," I admitted. "But that scares me, because I know that it isn't my emotion."

"It isn't mine," said Eric. "But I feel it. You are emitting it rather strongly. You always feel calm when I'm around."

I drew my hand back from his and pushed my body against the cushions of the couch. Not my emotion? "Then, what…?"

"You are simply allowing yourself to feel what you have always wanted to," his smile twisted. "Though it is easier to blame on me."

I worried my lip between my teeth as I considered this. So, some of what I was feeling was Eric, but some of it was what…my hidden agenda? My inner psyche?

"We are bonded now," Eric repeated, though he hardly needed to. That much would be obvious to me for the rest of my life. Clearly there was no changing that fact. "We now share a relationship closer than maker and child." His hand reached up to trace the side of my face and came to rest against my neck. I could not have moved my eyes form him then for the entire world. "I remember what happened to me last year. I remember why I was running to your house that night, Sookie."

Somehow I found the words. "You do? Why?"

"Because I do trust you," he looked away for the briefest of moments with that look of unease on his face again, but then his gaze was back. "I knew that in a time of trouble you were the one I should turn to for aid."

"But," I floundered confused, and distracted. Were these feelings his or mine? Why was I feeling so worried right now? "What could I do?"

His hands were in my hair now, brushing through it softly as he spoke. "Care for me, tend to my sorrows, keep me safe." His lips pressed lightly against my temple as he spoke. "Just as you did." He sighed, his mouth still lingering on my skin. "I spent many months wondering why I turned to you of all people."

When he pulled away I was reluctant to let him go so I reached out to entwine my fingers in his own. "Then I realized that I went to you because I _do_ trust you. Even then I knew it. As I do now."

"Then why wouldn't you let me know where you lived?" I asked, still confused. For someone who trusted me with his life it seemed a bit out of character for him to not trust me with the location of his possessions.

His eyes hardened and I was almost afraid that I'd said the wrong thing. "I want you to be mine, Sookie."

I recoiled, pulling my hand from his and he sighed.

"This is why I should trust you no more," he said. "Because you will not be mine." He shook his head and looked away. "Should I open myself up further and let you in, only to be sent away with all of my vulnerabilities laid bare? Or is it better to protect myself, just as you have been doing?"

We were silent for a lifetime before I found the words to speak again. "Its not that I won't…be yours," the words came slow, but I knew that now was a time for honestly. "I don't like it. I didn't like it when Bill said it, and I don't like it when you assume that I'm meant to do whatever you say. It makes me feel like a possession."

"A very treasured possession," he said, and ran the back of his fingers down my cheek.

I sighed, but leaned my face forward for his palm. "I want to be my own woman, Eric."

"Oh, Sookie," he withdrew his hand with a wry smile. "I don't think you understand at all."

When he stood I felt the lack of his presence and shrunk in on myself to fill the void. Was my body so devoid of contact? Or did I just want Eric that much? I blushed and closed my eyes to stray the thoughts away. If I wanted Eric so badly then why hadn't I done anything these past few months? Why hadn't he?

He kneeled before the fireplace and did not stand until he had kindled a small flame there. When he turned to face me again the look on his face was hard and unfamiliar. Only when his eyes met mine did I recognize the passion that burnt within.

Purposefully he advanced on me, his moves predatory and strong. I needed no reminder of what he was when he looked like this. I didn't even need to see the slight indentation his fangs made on his bottom lip.

I found myself mesmerized as he bent down, placing an arm on either side of me, boxing me into the corner of the couch. Slowly, teasingly, he moved his face over mine until I relented and turned my head just so. He took the invitation even as I gasped for breath and bent his head until his lips were placed on my neck, just under my ear. Then he spoke.

"Let me tell you a story."


	3. Chapter 3

"A story?" I breathed, though I hardly dared to speak.

Eric shifted me so that he could sit down on the couch with me between his legs. I did not argue, and happily settled my head against his chest, waiting for him to go on. I was staring into the growing flames of the fire when he began to talk, his voice rumbling his chest against my ear.

"Freyja, the Chooser of the Slain, was the first, perhaps the most powerful, but certainly not the fairest. She was the Mistress of the Valkyries and therefore demanded respect and worship. Even Odin paid tribute to her, though he did not have to do so kindly.

The Valkyrie were not so important in some ways. They were very minor deities, but mortal men recognized their strength. For it was their will that determined the victors of war. It was the Valkyries who deemed who would live and who would be taken. They were hero makers. They were present in every battle, every skirmish, and their desire was eternal.

Though they were battle maidens, they did not often fight and never willingly. They were no warriors. What they did was weave victory and defeat. They could bind a warrior with pain and terror as easily as they showed him favor."

"They sound horrible," I whispered.

"No," Eric's answer was firm. "No," he said more softly. "They were not so at all. What the Valkyries did, they did because it was their duty, not because they derived pleasure from it. It was said that when you lay upon the battlefield you might cry for their touch, for the mercy of their dominion. It was a great thing to be chosen by a Valkyrie. It was honorable.

Men were not always so honorable. A Valkyrie could change shape using her _alftarham_. But if a Valkyrie woman lost her _alftarham_ to a man then she could be controlled. She could be made to serve as his wife, to mother his children, and live under his control. But she would never be happy. She would spend her days in tears until her children would grow old enough to ask her why she wept so. Only when she was reunited with her _alftarham_ would she be her own again, free to return to her duties and her dominion. Even if it pained her to leave her children behind.

No Valkyrie has ever offered her _alftarham_ freely, but occasionally a sort of love existed between a Valkyrie and her man. Then, she might choose to stay even after her _alftarham_ had been returned, but eventually her purpose to all men and to Freyja would call her back to Valhalla, her home.

I worshiped Freyja when I was young, before I became what I am now. There were many times when I lay injured on the battlefield that I cried out for the touch of a Valkyrie, and begged to be chosen to reside in Valhalla. When my maker found me I thought that finally I had found my wish-maiden, my Valkyrie. But I had found nothing more than a malevolent _Norn_," this last was spit out with such distaste I gripped him tighter.

"It hasn't been until this past year that I realized I had finally found my Valkyrie," he went on more gently. "You say that you refuse to be mine, but you do not understand that you already command my thoughts. You hold me within your clutches, weaving these emotions through me. Emotions that I have not had reason to feel since I first cried out for Freyja's influence. Have I not paid tribute to you? Do you not offer your protection and mercy to me during every battle? You do not fight willingly or with pleasure, but you are quick to point out judgments." He laughed a bit at that before growing serious again. "For are you not given access to the people's innermost thoughts?"

"Not yours," I whispered, because I truly did not know what else to say. I felt lost, scrambling for the significance of all of this, trying to figure out what exactly Eric was telling me and wondering if I could ever be what he wanted.

"No," he repeated. "Not mine. But I am not human, I am not alive. I have been wandering these long years, waiting to gain entrance into Valhalla, waiting to be chosen by my Valkyrie."

He turned my body then, and I easily allowed myself to move to face him, still nestled against his chest. His eyes were rimmed in the red of unshed tears, and I knew that the fear and unease I felt was not all my own. "You will not be mine, Sookie Stackhouse, but you must know that I am already yours."

"This is…a lot to take in," I said, still not sure I understood what had happened.

"I understand," he said, and pressed my cheek against his chest again until I relaxed. His hand brushed absently through my hair. "You should have time to think on what I have told you."

"What is it that you want from me, Eric?" I asked after a while.

His hands stilled and I felt the intense affection through our bond. "I want all of you, Sookie. I want you to be mine, just as I want you to accept me as yours."

"But, I thought you said that Valkyries could not stay…" I hesitated to say it aloud, but now in this moment, held close against his chest I could not deny it. "With the men they loved."

"It is true that they were not able to stay with the men who stole their _alftarham_. But I would not steal what is freely given." He sighed with unneeded air, and I sat again so that I could see his eyes. "There will always be differences between us, Sookie. If I cannot have you, I will accept that in time, but you cannot change the bond that we already have. Why not explore it, why not embrace it?" I turned in time to see him close his eyes briefly. "You are unsure," he said before he opened his eyes again. "And you are scared. Perhaps it is easier to run away. Perhaps if you take this chance you will be hurt. But," his fingers brushed against my lips. "Perhaps not."

He stood abruptly. "I will drive you home now," he said.

I did not argue as we left the house, this time driving away with the headlights on full beams. That, too, I did not question. I didn't say a word all the long way home, and neither did he. Only when we pulled up on the softly crunching gravel that he had purchased for me did he turn to speak with me again.

"I will give you time to think, my bonded," He leaned forward just slightly and pressed his lips against my forehead once, and then he moved away again. "When you are ready you will contact me again."

I stood on the stairs of my back porch watching as Eric drove away in his flashy red Corvette, with its ostentatious vanity plate having not said a word since leaving his house. There seemed to be no words left to speak.

The lights were still on in the kitchen when I came in, but it since it was well past midnight I was not at all surprised to find the lower floor empty. Amelia and Dawson were likely sprawled across her bed upstairs, intertwined in their new love for each other. I was happy for them. Really.

I took my time unpinning my hair, and taking off the pretty new red dress. I hung it up again carefully, and draped it across the back of a chair to give to Amelia in the morning. It was easy to do the mindless tasks like brushing my teeth and washing the grit of the night from my face.

Only when I curled up in my bed again and reached to turn off the light did I have need to think again. My little swan, my mysterious nighttime visitor still sat on my bedside table.

I bypassed the light, and reached instead for the small carving. It was even lovelier than I remembered, with its arching neck and graceful wings. I ran my fingers down its beak once before placing it back where it belonged. Then I turned out the light, and feel deep into thoughts that I could not hide from in the dark and calm of the night.

I woke unsteadily, and unhappily to the sounds of Amelia and Dawson making breakfast together. Their happy voices and laughter was taunting to me, as was the sharp sunlight that streamed through Gran's old lace curtains.

It had been well into the morning before I had finally fallen asleep, if indeed I had slept at all. It felt more like a torrent of dreams where I had been some woman draped in golden robes, reaching out to bloodied and battered Eric.

My movements getting ready that morning were sluggish. I had jumped out of the shower, and toweled my body off before I realized that I hadn't rinsed the conditioner from my hair. Even pulling on my Merlotte's uniform was a struggle. It took me nearly twenty minutes to find my white shirt, only to find that it was tucked into my drawer like always.

The noise in the kitchen had somewhat subsided by the time I made my first appearance. Dawson was sitting at the kitchen table with the paper spread out before him and Amelia was busying herself with the dishes. It was the perfectly domestic scene that I had once dreamt of for myself. But I could never share a morning meal with a vampire lover.

"Good morning," said Amelia in a tone that was far too pleased. "Cup of coffee?"

"Sure," I accepted the mug with one hand, as I laid the red dress across the back of a chair with another. "I'll take your dress in to get dry-cleaned today and have it returned tonight."

Amelia was passing me the creamer with a puzzled look on her face. "Didn't he tell you?"

"Tell me what?" I asked slowly, clued in by the ever-ominous 'he.'

She traded a loaded look with Dawson who shrugged and returned to his paper with a clear 'none of my business' look on his face. "Eric bought that for you, he brought it over a few days ago. He didn't want you to know he'd been buying you gifts, so he told me to get you to wear it last night. But I figured he would tell you himself."

I sighed and looked down at the dress, noticing for the first time that the red really was more of a deep cranberry color. "No, he didn't tell me," I said.

"Did the two of you have a good talk?" She asked, taking her own seat beside Dawson as I gathered a plate of breakfast remains for my own meal.

"I guess," I said as I loaded up on eggs. If Dawson wasn't here I might be more inclined to elaborate, but as it was I was hardly going to start spilling my guts in front of him. "I'm still a little confused though."

"So are you guys together?" she asked as I took my seat.

I fixed a look on her over the table. "Maybe I should ask you. You appear to know much more than I do about all of this."

She didn't even have the good grace to blush. Instead she elbowed Dawson and smiled. "See, honey, I told you I could pull it off." She turned back to me. "He thought you'd know straight away what my game was."

Dawson looked up from his article. "Figured you could pull it right out of her head. Not like she's very good at hiding things." The smile he then shared with Amelia definitely spoke of a hidden meaning that I didn't care to know about.

"Right," I said. "Just, next time Eric—or Pam," I added. "Try to get you to do anything tell me first."

The shrug Amelia offered was not at all reassuring.

Octavia came in as I was finishing up, and since she offered to do the dishes I gladly left the chore to her in favor of heading into town. I had to be at work for the lunch shift today, but if I hurried I could swing by the library and drop off some books, and maybe have a chance to run to the post office and pick up some new stamps.

As it turned out, I only had enough time to check in my library books before I had to head out, since Sam called me in early. Our newest hire had quit unexpectedly, leaving us high and dry, so of course I had to step into her shoes.

"Thanks, Sookie," said Sam as I stormed into the bar. He politely did not notice the way the door had slammed back on its hinges when I came in. I hadn't been in the best of mood this morning, but being rushed into the bar to work the extra hours didn't do anything to help.

I stowed away my purse, tied on my apron and went about my business like a woman on a mission. Where this anger was coming from I really had no idea, and it wasn't until iced tea began splashing out of a cup that I realized my hands were shaking.

The little sleep I had managed last night was hardly restorative, and my mood was already foul so it was easier than usual for the thoughts of the people around me to invade me head. Luckily no one was paying me any attention at all, except to think that I was angrier than usual. I picked up from Terry that it had been a while since I had been my chipper self, which upset me even more. What had been going on with me lately?

Finally when I dropped and broke a frosted glass behind the bar Sam made me step back into his office with him.

"Sookie, what in the devil is wrong with you today?" he asked.

I collapsed into the little chair across from his desk and scowled. "There's nothing wrong with me, Sam Merlotte, I'm just tired is all."

His whole body sighed and he ran a hand down the contours of his face. "Alright, nothing's wrong with you. What's on your mind then?"

"Nothing," I snapped instantly, then seeing the truly caring look on his face I frowned. "It's just this stupid Valkyrie thing."

"Valkyrie?" Sam did not sound pleased. "Those swan-shifters bothering you?"

What I felt was not so much surprise as realization. "What swan-shifters?" I asked.

Sam waved a hand. "The Valkyries, they aren't anything but a bunch of swan-shifters, but they get high and mighty and try and pass themselves off as something unique when they take a mind to it. Don't listen to a word out of their twisted little beaks. Those crazy things spend more than a reasonable amount of time in their swan bodies and it warps their minds."

"So," I said slowly. "They aren't Valkyries?"

The face Sam pulled was not elegant. "No. Just shifters. Now you tell me what they've been saying to you, Sookie."

My mouth opened of its own accord, but since I didn't have anything truthful to say I shut it again and smiled. "Nothing at all, Sam, but thank you." Then I turned and walked right out of his office and back to the bar.

After that, my feet moved more easily and my hands carried each orders faithfully. I didn't frown once at a customer, and even my tips increased. I could tell Sam was confused by the way I smiled at him, but he didn't call me back in his office again.

My bliss lasted until the very end of my shift, so that I even kissed Sam and Terry on the cheek as a goodbye. Only when I was sitting back in my car again did some of the edge fade.

So, Eric was my nighttime visitor. Of that I was sure. Some part of me had suspected, and some part of me had hopped, but not knowing had been tugging on the edge of my mind all day.

I sighed as I started the engine and started on the short drive home. Knowing Eric had left me a small gift was nice, and it certainly made me feel good, but it hardly solved any other problems. Eric still saw me as what…something inhuman? Or did he see me exactly as I was?

It was almost easy to come up with excuses why I should continue to do as I had done and avoid Eric. He was controlling while I wanted a will of my own, he was manipulative and politically driven, and we weren't even the same species. But there was also that chance…that small chance that something could work between us. Weren't we already bonded? Wasn't I already spoiled for any human relationship? Even if I didn't try something with Eric, how could I explain our relationship to any other man? I couldn't imagine Quinn or even Bill tolerating Eric being as close to me as he was.

I pulled in behind my house under the porch light with my head full of conflicting thoughts. I had been afraid of submitting to Eric's will, but if what he had said last night was true and he really felt that we could belong to each other then should I really argue over his desire to claim me? Was the one word 'mine' really so terrifying. After all, I hadn't had too much of a problem allowing Bill to say as such. But then I had found out that Bill hadn't really loved me at all. Not then at least.

Octavia and Amelia were both at the kitchen table when I walked in. From what I could tell it looked like they were reading tealeaves.

"And you see how this one is all bunched up…oh hello, Sookie," Octavia fell silent as I entered the room. For whatever reason she didn't think it was appropriate to talk about witchy matters in front of me.

"Hello," I said, throwing down my purse. "What are you guys doing tonight?"

"Babysitting," said Octavia, with a definite scowl on her face. "My daughter decided that having me around last night was too handy."

"Why'd you even come back?" I asked. I knew Octavia's daughter leaved nearby, but not so close that it was a comfortable journey to make on a daily basis.

Amelia laughed. "She didn't call until an hour ago, and Octavia doesn't have the nerve to say no."

Hauntingly Octavia drew herself up to glare at her student. "It's not that I do not have the nerve, Amelia. I have grandchildren, this is a responsibility I accept gladly."

Amelia rolled her eyes and smiled at me. "Dawson's asked me over for dinner. Says he's going to return the favor." The suggestive waggle of her eyebrows was not needed.

"Hmm," I hummed, thinking. So, for once I had the house all to myself.

"Any plans?" Amelia asked. "Not driving down to Shreveport?"

I glared at her and picked my purse back up again. "No plans that would interest you," I told her. "I'm going to go take a shower. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

I left the room to sound of their goodbyes and Octavia picking up her lecturing tone again. I should probably tell her that her voice carried through the door to my bedroom, but since she would probably then start holding class in a closet somewhere I knew I wouldn't.

My eyes went instantly to the little swan on my bedside table. This time when I picked it up I cradled it in my palm, not stroking, just holding. Had Eric really made this? He had such big hands, that I couldn't even picture him holding a tool small enough to make these grooves. How long had he spent making sure that the Swan's neck arched just right?

I had hesitations. There were still too many things that could go wrong, but I remembered last night. I remembered listening to his voice as I pressed my head against his chest. I remembered the way the fire felt on my skin as he combed his fingers through my hair. I wanted to feel that way again. The way that I only felt with Eric, my bonded.

The story he had told me was symbolic—Eric's way of showing me how much I meant to him. His way of explaining that I had some control over him so that I would feel safe to give him something in return. I knew that, but knowing didn't make me any less moved. It was a personal touch, something from his history, something to make me a part of his entire life.

I looked down at the little swan again and smiled.

After that I moved more purposefully. I took my time in the shower, making sure every inch of my body was clean and smooth. I even pulled out my rarely used hairdryer to brush out every wave in my hair until it fell perfectly against my shoulders. I retrieved the red dress from the kitchen where I had left it that morning and found my hair clip.

I had checked to make sure Amelia and Octavia were both gone earlier so I knew that I was quite alone when I turned out all the lights in the house. Then, I turned on the light at my bedside and picked up the little swan. The light shone off its back as I set it down in my windowsill and waited for him to come.

He did not keep me waiting.


End file.
